


Passionate Dance

by Serenade



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Mirror Sex, Rope Bondage, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22572433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenade/pseuds/Serenade
Summary: Csethiro dominates Csoru on the dance floor.
Relationships: Csethiro Ceredin/Csoru Drazharan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Passionate Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goddamnshinyrock (micaceous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/micaceous/gifts).



When Csoru entered the ballroom, Csethiro was already waiting for her, one foot tapping.

The Crystal Ballroom was no longer much in use. A generation ago, it had been the height of fashion. Antique chandeliers, made of wrought iron, hung from the ceiling. Tall mirrors, for the dancers to admire their elegance, lined the walls. Csoru cast a glance at her reflection in passing, pleased with the effect of the peacock feathers ornamenting her green velvet cloak.

"You are late again," Csethiro said.

"We were busy," Csoru said breezily.

"This frippery you wear is quite unsuitable for a dance lesson."

"How dare you!" Csoru said, eyes sparking with outrage. She knew it brought a becoming flush to her cheeks.

It was a game they both enjoyed. They read the same yellow-backed novels. It seemed sometimes that Csethiro relished her role a little too well. Csoru liked that element of unpredictability. It lent an edge to their interactions.

Csoru tossed aside her cloak. Beneath was a pale sheath of a dress, her shoulders scandalously bare. Her scarf was a wisp of gauze, revealing rather than concealing.

Csethiro was not even looking. She eyed the cloak pooled on the floor with disapproval. "You promised to obey our instructions. All our instructions."

"And what do you suppose you can teach us?"

"Thou insolent brat," Csethiro said, with heavy satisfaction. "Thou dost need a lesson in behaviour."

Csethiro walked from window to window, taking down the curtain ropes, until she had several of them. They were braided red cord, threaded with gold, thick as her wrist. Csethiro wound them around Csoru: under her arms, crossing her breasts, circling her waist, and between her thighs. They slid her dress up, exposing silk stockings and lace undergarments. The tassels brushed her skin whenever she shifted. Csethiro knotted the ropes together firmly, like a makeshift harness.

Finally she cast the longest rope over an iron chandelier, which rocked, but held sturdily. It was chained and riveted to the ceiling. Nothing would bring it down, let alone someone as delicate as Csoru.

Csethiro tugged on the rope. Csoru went on tiptoe, then her feet lifted off the marble floor. Thrown off balance, her heart pounded. She stretched her legs out, but was unable to find purchase. Suspended, swaying, helpless. At Csethiro's mercy.

As though to demonstrate, Csethiro gave her a push on the hip, sending her into a slow spin. The mirrors showed Csoru on all sides, reflection within reflection, like a kaleidoscope. A toy ballerina, in a jewelled music box, turning and turning.

Csethiro seemed to have the same thought. "How prettily thou dost dance on thine own. A shame thy manners are not so pretty."

Light shone down from the windows. Even this high up, they might be discovered: someone spying them from another tower, or even from an airship far above.

"What if someone should see?" Csoru said, a thrill half fear and half delight.

"Thou shouldst have thought of that earlier, before thou chose disobedience."

Csethiro hoisted on the ropes, and suddenly Csoru was lifted high by the waist, her head and her feet hanging downward. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors, bent into a V. She wondered, in this configuration, what indignity was intended for her.

Csethiro produced a folded fan. It was not some delicate confection of ivory and lace, as was the current fashion among the court ladies. It was the length of her forearm, the frame of lacquered wood, the panels of painted silk. Csoru instantly knew, from the look in her eye, what her intention was.

"Oh no," Csoru said, as firmly as she could.

Csethiro stalked towards her, mouth twitching. "Oh yes."

With a casual shake of her hand, she snapped open the fan. On its surface were orchids, lush white petals guarding a deep red heart. She swatted Csoru lightly on the rear. Stiff silk rasped over her skin.

Csoru yelped, jerking away. She glared venomously. "You can't do this."

"Can I not? But thou art right in one respect. It would not do to mar this antique by tearing it in a fit of passion." Csethiro snapped the fan shut, once more a long rod. "This makes a better instrument of discipline."

Csoru twisted in her bonds, cursing, to avoid each swat. But no matter how much she contorted her body, the fan never missed. She squirmed with every stroke, her buttocks stinging and reddening. She bucked in desperation, driving the rope hard against the tender flesh between her thighs, involuntarily working herself against the rough surface. She gasped at the sensation, her slippered feet flexing in the air. She wanted, oh how she wanted. But no matter how close she came, she never reached the summit.

"Dost thou require assistance?" Csethiro inquired.

"Not from you!" Csoru said. But her voice was raw. She hung there, panting and frustrated. She suspected Csethiro of fashioning the harness to be like this: arousing a frenzy of desire, but impossible to achieve fulfilment.

"Then perhaps I should go." Csethiro turned away, towards the door.

"No!" Csoru tried to suppress her panic. She didn't really think Csethiro would abandon her here, to be discovered by some servant or guard, in this humiliating state. But Csethiro might well leave her to sweat for an hour or two, until she judged Csoru adequately chastened. Csoru thought she might burst if she had to wait that long.

"Thou wilt have to ask more nicely than that," Csethiro said.

Csoru gritted her teeth. "Help us, damn you."

Csethiro raised an eyebrow.

"Fine." It was like swallowing sand. "Please, Csethiro, help us."

Csethiro moved behind her, and did something with the ropes, so that Csoru hung upright once more. The chandelier tilted, with a groan of iron and a tinkle of glass. Csoru sucked in a sudden breath. Csethiro had joined them together, chest to back, so that they rode the harness together. Where their bodies met, there was a complex knotwork that moved when they moved.

Csethiro wrapped her arms around Csoru, holding their hands tightly together. "Perhaps thou canst do some work for once. Let me see how much thou hast learned."

Csoru threw herself back and forth, like some wild barbarian dance. The weight of two bodies, with their unpredictable moves, produced delicious friction. Whenever Csoru slackened her efforts, Csethiro reminded her with the fan, ripples of heat wherever it landed. Csoru trembled, quivering, responding exactly to what Csethiro commanded. Every time she moved, the harness drew tight, and Csethiro let out a sigh too.

Straining together, at last they came to a conclusion. Writhing figures whirled past in the mirrors, mouths open as they cried out their pleasure. Long hair tumbled loose, pins bouncing on the floor.

Csethiro had a look of smug satisfaction on her face. Even so, she could not disguise the heat high on her cheeks, or the swiftness of her breathing. Csoru preened in her reflection, thoroughly debauched, but flushed and triumphant.

"Very good," Csethiro said.


End file.
